The Shadow's of My Mind
by hotpinkkindagirl23
Summary: ONE SHOT He smiled. Not a nice, comforting smile you would expect from a friend. A cold, sinister one. One that knew the things he was capable of. I didn't know yet, but I do now. I was thirteen years old when he took me. And the world moved on.


**The Shadow's of My Mind**

He spoke to me a couple of times, but I don't remember what he said.

I don't remember, was there horror?

Was it so chilling that the blood left my face?

So pallid and grey.

Did I know what he was talking about then, know what was going to happen to me?

I can't remember.

But I remember what came next.

He smiled.

Not a nice, comforting smile you would expect from a friend. A cold, sinister one.

One that knew the things he was capable of.

I didn't know yet, but I do now.

I was eight years old when he took me.

And the world moved on.

* * *

I can only recall parts of my first days there – snap shots, if you will.

I remember crying for my mom and dad.

I remember crying for my brothers.

I remember crying for my best friends.

I remember crying for my enemies.

But what I remember most about it, was hope.

I had hope that they would find me; they would bring me out of this hell.

After awhile I accepted my fate. In reality, hope is the worst of all evils.

It prolongs man's torments. And that's exactly what it did.

Everyday, I would wake up hoping it was all a nightmare.

Everyday, I went through the same disappointment that I was not _having _a nightmare.

No, I was _living_ one.

* * *

I'm trapped in the basement.

He's howling, running, searching for me.

Hunting for me.

And I cannot leave. I'll never leave.

If I move, he'll see me. If I breath, he'll hear me.

I'll never make it out alive.

He opens the door, trudges down the stairs. He yells for me.

The nightmare is better when the sun is still aflame. But now it's cold, and the darkness is creeping in.

There are eyes staring, stalking, skulking in the shadows.

And he's... somewhere? In my mind? In my head, or in my heart? In this room? Or in my imagination?

I don't remember.

"Who are you?" I ask the eyes.

"Who are you?" they recited back.

"Bella." I tell them. I don't have the energy to fight anyone else right now.

"Marie." she confides.

"That's my middle name."

"Huh."

Silence.

We don't talk much after that. I want to.

I want to ask her who she is – more than her name.

I want to ask her how she got taken here.

I want to ask if he hurts her too.

I want to ask why she didn't do anything.

I want to ask why she saw what he did to me, but just stayed silently in the corner.

But I don't.

Because I don't want to upset her. I don't like being alone. So we just sit. And it's fine. The world moves on.

* * *

Then it's not my first days anymore.

I've been there so long, I can't tell you how much time has passed.

I can't tell you what time it is. I can't tell you what day it is. I can't tell you if it's day or night.

I used to keep track of those things in the beginning. I don't see the point anymore.

"Jasper and Emmett always try to annoy me. Don't ever tell them I said this, but I think their jokes are a little funny. Only a little." I tell her.

"Tell me about them." she prompts.

So I do.

I sit by my lamp and tell Marie all about my brothers.

How when I was a baby, Emmett dragged me around by my head once, because he thought I was his doll.

How Jasper found a frog by the pond outside our house, and put it into my backpack when I was in first grade.

How Emmett pushed me down a big hill on my bike before I was ready.

How when I scraped my knee, he carried me all the way home to mom.

How when I was sick with the chicken pox, Jasper let me play with his superman dolls.

"But he claims that they're not dolls. They're action figures. I claim it's the same thing. That's what we always fight about." I pause for a moment. "I miss that."

The whole time, Marie doesn't say anything. She's a very good listener. So I tell her that.

"You're a really good listener."

"Thanks. It's what I do."

And then the basement door opened. And then he smiled.

I never realized smiles could shine like death.

_Who would have thought?_

* * *

More time passes. I can't tell you how long. Just more time.

And the world goes on.

I think back to the day this all started.

I was going to the grocery store.

Milk.

Bread.

And pasta.

That's all we needed.

Who knew such a mundane task as picking up dinner could change everything so dramatically.

A man came in with a gun and wrenched me out of mu life and into here.

And the world moved on.

But I can't. I think about that day all the time now. I talk to Marie about it a lot.

I find myself thinking it's not really as bad as one would think down there.

As long as he stays upstairs, I almost enjoy my time playing with Marie.

But he never does, he always opens the basement door.

And when he does, Marie always shrinks into the background.

I used to hate her for it. Why would she leave me when I needed her the most?

But then I understand that she's just scared.

A particularly bad time, he retreats back up the stairs before he's finished.

Marie was right there with me as soon as he was gone. She always was.

"I'm sorry he hurt you." she whispers.

"Me too." I breathe back.

Then we sit beside my lamp again. And I tell her stories from my real life.

About my mom baking cookies with me, and us having a food fight.

About my dad taking me and my brothers fishing, and then pushing us all in the water.

She always just listens.

* * *

Then it's the first time I needed Marie and she didn't come.

The power went out, and I was really scared.

She stayed away. He opened the basement door and hurt me, and she didn't comfort me.

And the world moved on.

I get so angry at her.

I go through everything else so she doesn't have to. But she has to be there for me after.

I can't do it alone.

I miss my mom.

I miss my dad.

I miss my brothers.

I just want to go home.

When Marie comes back the next time, I don't speak to her.

She gives me a bracelet and eventually I give in. Because who else do I have?

* * *

Then it's the day I got out.

Technically.

There is commotion upstairs.

And then the basement door opens. I flinch away like always.

But it's not him who comes down those god awful steps.

It's the police.

They come down, and they take me home.

They leave Marie down there.

I've been told that there wasn't really anyone else down there, that Marie was just my imagination.

But they weren't there.

They didn't see her.

I still wear her bracelet everyday.

Sometimes I get confused. I'm back in my living hell. I don't think about it on purpose.

I try to erase his smile from my mind. I know if I let it, it will leave me there, eat me up.

It will devour my bones and I'll be nothing.

_Nothing. _

So I go to therapy to forget.

Forget his hungry smile, forget those stairs, and forget the door opening.

But never Marie.

I always remember Marie.

**A/N: This is just a one shot. I had to write this for an English assignment about PTSD and the use of the fantastical world to deal with horrific realities. I just changed the names for it, but I wanted to post it here, too. Let me know what you think! PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks :) **


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